


Till Death

by NeuroWriter14



Series: NW14 Does Halloween [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Do not repost, Haunting Of hill house au, M/M, Seriously I'm warning you guys, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Harry was adopted as an infant into a family of house flippers. Naturally, when he was young, the house they chose to flip was haunted and the haunting stayed with them long after they left. Harry had a life, grew up, married. His husband, Tom Riddle, died one terrible night and the ghosts Harry held at bay came back once more.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: NW14 Does Halloween [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946689
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Till Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain/gifts).



> For [Sanya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain)

_It's just a house._ His therapist told him. _It's only a house._

Just a house. Just a house.

But the house daunted him from where he sat inside his car. It stood, tall and proud, against the backdrop of the night sky. The house had been like a maze the few months he had lived there when he was younger, he remembered the twisting and turning of the rooms. He remembered the terror at night, things banging on walls, the wandering eyes of statues. He remembered the way his adopted family would wake up in the middle of the night, each of them facing a new ghost. Harry adored his adopted family. He had vague memories of his birth parents, who died when he was only a year old, but he remembered bits and pieces. He knew enough to know what they looked like. But just as much as his birth parents were his family, so were the Weasleys, the family who adopted him. But even they were haunted by the silent house in front of him. Each dealt with it in their own ways, most trying to ignore the past. 

Harry had managed to ignore the past for a little while. He had been paralyzed by the ghosts that followed him from the house. That was, at least, until he met Tom. 

Tom Riddle was the best thing that ever happened to him. At night, he still dreamt of Tom's dark blue eyes, the chestnut waves of his hair, the tenderness with which he held Harry close. Tom was the doctor who led the sleep study for which Harry was diagnosed with sleep paralysis. He was always so kind and gentle with Harry, holding him close when his mind woke before his body. He remembered the way Tom's hands caressed him, in everything from sitting together on the couch to love-making. Tom had allowed himself to often function as Harry's pillow, the two of them wrapped around each other in sleep. 

He remembered the terrible night Tom died. An aneurism, something that could happen to anyone without warning. One moment Tom was there, and the next he was gone. And Harry couldn't do anything about it until his body caught up with his mind.

That was a year ago. And not a day went by without Tom's smiling face entering his mind.

 _Ghosts are memories._ His brother would say. _They are the things we've left behind._

Harry pulled his phone from the cupholder of his car, still staring at the looming house in the distance. 

Every person who lived in the house took a ghost with them when they left. For Harry's adoptive father it was his wife, Harry's adoptive mother, who died in the house on their last night there. For Ron, Harry's brother and best friend, it was an incredibly tall man with a bowler hat. For his oldest brother, Bill, it had been a woman who whispered soft words from behind glowing, gold eyes. But for Harry, it was a shadow that whispered in hisses. 

The shadow had returned the night Tom died, and had stayed with him every night since. Tom was his light, chasing away the shadows that haunted him, and without Tom, the shadows crept back. 

The phone rang a few times before eventually, a voice called out on the other end.

"Hello?" 

"Dad?" Harry's voice was thick with emotions, choked by tears and sadness. 

"Harry?" Arthur Weasley's voice echoed through the phone. "Harry? What's wrong?" 

"Do you remember the hissing man?" 

There was a sigh on the other line and some shifting. He had probably woken the man up. "I remember." 

"He's back." 

There was a tense pause. "Harry, I need you to listen to me." His adoptive father's voice was stern. "I need you to go to your brother's house. Bill is the closest. You go there and I'll be there soon, ok." 

Harry let out a small sigh as the house in front of him, looming in the darkness, suddenly seemed to come to life. "Ok, Dad." 

"Promise me, you'll go." 

"I promise." He began to pull the phone away from his ear. Light bloomed within the monstrous body of the house, slowing illuminating the forgotten yard. It beckoned to him, called to him. It told him to come home. As he watched, the light on the front porch switched off and on and off again and then on once more.

_Come home._

"Love you, Dad." 

There was a noise on the other end of the phone, but Harry couldn't hear it anymore. Instead, he was transfixed by the sight in front of him. He set the phone down in the cupholder once more and stepped from the car. 

His therapist had told him that the house would likely be rotten, falling in on itself, forgotten. The yard certainly was, and the massive gate which led to the terrible property creaked more than it ever had in Harry's nightmares. But the house itself stood tall and seemed to stand taller as Harry neared. It looked as though he had never left. As though that terrible night had never happened. Harry was still haunted by that night, but the loss of his third parent. Harry had four parents total in his life and an aunt who raised them after everything happened. He had lost all but one. 

He stepped up to the echoing wooden door, which thrummed with life under his hand. He pushed it open, finding not a rotten, falling apart, forgotten being awaiting him, but instead life. The house was lit in every corner, statues stood proud and tall, clean; the wallpaper was perfect, the rugs were clean. Everything about it screamed that there was life within, something awaiting him. 

"Harry," A voice called quietly and his eyes shot to the source.

At the top of the stairs stood three people. On the left was Harry's father, James, who looked almost identical to Harry himself. His hazel eyes were hidden behind round glasses and he had wild raven-colored hair. He smiled down at Harry softly. 

"Dad," He whispered.

On the right was Harry's mother. Lily had vibrant red hair and eyes the same emerald green as Harry's. She smiled widely as Harry's eyes drifted to her.

"Mom."

In the middle stood Molly Weasley, just as Harry remembered her. 

"Mom." 

The three of them moved down the stairs in unison, and all of them reached Harry at the same time. He didn't know which to embrace first, but they quickly embraced him at the same time, Harry buried between the three of them. He was nearly in tears. 

"You've come home," Molly said quietly, dragging a hand over his back. 

"I-" He cut himself off, looking from face to face of his parents. "I've missed you all so much." 

"We've missed you, Harry," James answered, his hand cupping the side of Harry's face. "But you're home now." 

A tear spilled over his cheek, one that Molly quickly wiped way. "You're here now darling. Now, go get dressed."

"Dressed?" 

"Trust us, my dear," Lily said, squeezing his shoulder. "Go now." 

Harry did as he was told, looking over his shoulder at his parents, still standing at the base of his stairs. He found his room exactly as he had left it, with a pair of dress pants and an emerald shirt waiting for him. It didn't take him long to change, and when he did, he found himself greeted by his various brothers and sister. Ron walked with him to the edge of where everyone was gathered, each of them saying something softly to Harry as he passed.

"Someone is waiting for you," Ron said as they reached the end of the line of family members.

"Who?"

Ron carefully turned his head and Harry was immediately frozen. 

Tom.

He looked every bit as Harry remembered him. His wavy chestnut hair, the lone curl on his forehead, his high cheekbones framing his deep sapphire eyes. 

"Hello, my love." Tom greeted, grinning wide with the smile he reserved only for Harry. "Oh, how I've missed you." 

He lunged then, falling right into Tom's open and waiting arms. He practically sobbed the other's name as the other buried his face in Harry's wild hair. His arms came around Harry in a tight grasp, holding him close and softly like he always had. He smelled the way Harry remembered. His body curved to his as perfectly as he always had. Harry didn't understand the term 'soulmates' until he met Tom and after his death, he had never felt complete without him. He was whole once more.

"Come, my love." Tom pulled away slightly, his eyes shining as though he had unshed tears. "Dance with me." 

Tom had always been fond of dancing, something Harry only tolerated because Tom did. But now, he was ecstatic to be doing something he hated. Only because he was in Tom's arms once again. Tom pulled him close, his bright eyes smiling down at Harry. And off they went. Spinning and spinning through the halls, over the stairs, through doors and over the rug and tile floors. They were folded into each other's arms and Harry was lost to him. Lost in the smell of his skin, the feel of his hands, the smiles he loved to shower on Harry. 

Tom spun him in his arms, turning him so his back was to the other's chest. And still the danced, with Tom's face buried in his neck and their hands linked. Tom's other hand was pressed against his hip with Harry's overlaying it. 

"You're as beautiful as I remember, my love," Tom whispered against the skin of his neck. "I am so sorry to have left you." 

He spun Harry once more until they were chest to chest again. Tom folded Harry in his grasp. He couldn't resist anymore, he couldn't resist the intoxicating presence of his love. Harry leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Tom immediately returned the kiss, ravaging his mouth as he had so many times on his friskier nights. 

"Stay with me," Tom whispered when he pulled away.

"Tom," Harry said quietly. 

But the other kept moving back. 

_No._ A voice whispered.

"Stay with me." 

"Tom!" Harry's voice grew more frantic, he suddenly felt unsteady. 

_Go._

"Stay with me."

"Tom!"

_Leave._

"It's all right, my love." Tom was just out of reach. "Don't fret." He stepped back once again. "Just come to me." He smiled softly. "Stay with me." 

Harry reached and reached, and Tom was still so far away. 

"Just step closer," Tom coaxed. "Come to me." 

It was too late that he realized there was no longer ground under him. It was too late that he realized he had somehow climbed over the banister, reaching for that every distant hand. It was too late when he realized that the ground was coming closer and panic rose in his throat.

It was too late when he realized the pain that shot through his body, as though he had been hit by a freight train. 

And it was too late when he realized he was looking down at himself. Blood and brains littered the floor with Harry's own body twisted in directions he knew no body should ever be twisted in. At the same time, his mind was shoved violently back in time, seeing himself over and over again until he was a child, the first night they lived in the house. He tried to speak, he tried to tell himself not to be afraid, but instead, it was a hiss.

Then, he was back, staring at his own body once again.

"You carried your ghosts with you, my love." Tom's voice was suddenly next to him again. His eyes were sad, unlike how they had been moments before. "I tried to tell you to stay away. To move on." Tom reached forward, grasping Harry's face between his hands. "You grieved, but you didn't let go. I have been with you this whole time." Harry could feel phantom tears spring to his eyes. "But we are together now." 

"Trapped here," Harry muttered. "I'm so sorry, Tom." 

"No, my love." Tom pulled him closer, folding him into his arms. "Whatever walks here, we have now joined them." He felt a warm kiss press against his temple. "But we are together. And we will walk together until the sun falls from the sky." 

"I've missed you so much, Tom," Harry said quietly, turning to bury himself in the other's neck.

"I've missed you too." Tom ran a hand through his hair.

"And now, we will have eternity." 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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